These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. “Hey, Mike.
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